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Joel’s Hospital Diaries: Chapter 2

Woke up to the good ‘ol reliable blood draw at fucking 4AM. Gotta have that hemo by the time the Mercedes roll in. Then what the fuck do I do? I’m wide awake now. At 4, we’ve got ‘lil ‘lil kids programming, a mess of paid programming, old Married with Children episodes that don’t hold up or Full House episodes that never held up. Sportscenter and ESPN it is. Oh, shit. Derek Jeter’s retiring. Maybe I’ll lay off of ESPN for a year then.

My doctor, nurses and case manager come in and FUCK! I hate this doctor. He doesn’t believe in pain killers. My last doc gave me 2mg of Dilaudid every two hours. This doc gives me .5mg every six hours with a Norco(pretty much a yellow skittle to me) every few hours. I’m currently cramming as much shit down my piehole as I can, knowing that in about an hour, I won’t even be able to have even as much as a sip of water as I have surgery set for the morning for my fifth amputation!(I’ve since had one more)

I’m supposed to take a shit for this nice pretty lady, but so far all I can muster are some blaring loud dry farts. She just woke me up from a deep doze, scaring the hell out of me asking me where my poop was. Perhaps this is good, because the last time a nurse asked for my poop, it was because I had the Norovirus and I gave that chick some shit and then some. But I guess I’m sort of burying the lede here; Getting big toe #2 amputated tomorrow and I’m pretty fucking bummed out about it. I just wish I could help every one of my friends and family before I did this. Morbid, but I would gladly sacrifice myself for their happiness. I’m just getting grumpier with every toe I lose. Sooner or later a foot? A leg? But not yet, you fuckers!

P.S. My therapist called and said she’d stop by tomorrow with some food and support, so that’s nice to have! Thanks, girl!